


What I Can't Say, I'll Show

by SwissArmyKnife



Category: Critical Role
Genre: Caleb really loves his friends, Essek is Confused, Fjord Has 7 Wisdom, Found Family, Gen, Kiri needs to be in more stories because she's precious okay?, Polymorph Spell, dubious coping mechanisms, he just sucks at showing it (as a human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwissArmyKnife/pseuds/SwissArmyKnife
Summary: There are certain things Caleb finds hard to express, but somehow it’s easier as a cat.1. Frumpkin– (Escape from Myself) The first time Caleb turns into a cat, he’s alone in his room. Well, almost alone.2. Nott– (Pay Attention) Nott has been preoccupied lately. Human Caleb understands, but cats are selfish by nature.3. Beau– (Love Bites) Loving Beauregard is painful, as usual.4. Fjord– (Talk to Me in the Middle of the Night) Fjord wakes up to something tiny and sharp poking him in the eye.5. Caduceus– (Coping Mechanism) Caduceus isn’t convinced this is entirely healthy, but it’s fine.6. Jester– (When You Mourn) Caleb isn’t ordinarily equipped to offer physical comfort, but right now he is soft and small and warm, so it’s easier.7. Essek– (Familiar) Essek has an unusual encounter one evening while out in the city.8. Kiri & Luc- (Child's Play) The Nein decide Hupperdook is too dangerous for Kiri, so they bring her to Nicodranas. Luc and Kiri adjust, and Caleb helps.
Relationships: The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 356
Kudos: 1058
Collections: Find Familiars





	1. Escape From Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the most important aspects of polymorph is that, while it changes your shape, it also transforms your mind, limiting your breadth of understanding and emotional expression to that of your given form. Thus, transform into a moth and you end up eating curtains. This has wild ramifications for a cerebral, anxious person like Caleb, and Liam has already commented on Caleb being profoundly affected by the freedom of his eagle form. Which got me to thinking, what impact might Caleb’s new shapeshifting affinity have on his relationships with the Nein? We’ve already seen him love-pecking Nott and ape-hugging Beauregard, so when exactly are we going to get the ultimate expression of this? Cat-leb, anyone?

The first time he did it, he was in his own room in the Xhorhaus. Alone, because what he was doing was absurd, even by Mighty Nein standards, and he didn’t want to explain his reasoning, even to his friends. His true reason was, after all, just a little too vulnerable, a little too wrapped up in childhood and woundedness and whimsey, and those things were too complex for anything but the most intimate of settings. Thus, he was alone, sitting on his bed, turning the transmuter’s stone over and over in his hands while second guesses played through his mind.

“You’re being timid,” he murmured to himself. “Just do it.”

Thus resolved, he took a deep breath, traced the air, and murmured the words.

There was a rush of displaced air, a strangeness of bones displacing, snapping, and reshaping. Skin stretched, then erupted with fur: long, pale, and tawny. In his mouth, his teeth turned needle sharp, and as his tongue ran over his lips, it was pleasantly rough. Long fingers tucked in, and soft pads grew in their places. Caleb blinked, and the world was new-colored, a spiral of smells that superseded sound or even sight. Transformation complete, he sat down on his haunches, twitched his ears and tail, and felt the world anew.

He was small and alert, but not afraid. Caleb lifted a paw. Aside from selecting the species, he hadn’t specified appearance, and his coat – not surprisingly – had come out similar to his own hair. His paw pads were pink, as was his delicate nose. He turned around to try and see his tail, but the movement of its tip – so feathery and quick! – distracted him, and he made an awkward sideways movement to try and catch it in his paws, which almost sent him toppling to the floor.

Recovering, Caleb gave himself a shake and set about exploring the bed. It yielded under his paws, but he felt confident, his balance sure. Was this how Beauregard felt all the time? He was even more delighted to find his coat flung across the blankets. And this coat! It was wonderful! It smelled like him, and it was soft and purple. He turned in circles, intent on curling up, perhaps having a nap, but when he did so, a bell rolled out of one pocket and fell off the bed. It’s silvery tinkling made Caleb’s heart beat wildly, and before he realized what he was doing, he was on the ground, grabbing it between his paws and rolling onto his back, eyes dilating with pleasure.

He might have continued to bat around the silver bell for some time, but an unexpected sound made his hair stand on end. He stood, fur bristling, as another creature emerged from beneath the bed. Before he could decide whether to fight or flee, however, he recognized the trespasser.

Frumpkin.

His fey familiar, wrapped in the guise of a Bengal cat, chirped at him. It was a sound Caleb had heard hundreds of times, but it had a different quality now. It wasn’t language. There were no words. Yet there _was_ feeling, and it was a feeling that, in his feline form, Caleb interpreted differently. His tail shivering with excitement, he bounded forward, and from his chest came a trill – a sound of pleasure so deep it vibrated between his ribs and in his chest and out his throat. You’re here! I’m glad!

He rubbed his mouth against Frumpkin’s, and the sense of _good smell-safe-home_ became even more distinct. The vibration in his chest deepened, and his back arched involuntarily. Frumpkin's eyes seemed to laugh at him. He rolled Caleb onto his back, and they grappled playfully, shadow boxing and kicking with their hind legs until all their energy ran out and they settled, tangled up in a knot of short and long ginger fur.

Caleb pressed his face into Frumpkin’s shoulder as his world narrowed to a pinpoint: warm belly, kneading paws, Frumpkin. There was no tomorrow, not properly, not as cat-Caleb. No complicated political scene or unknown dangers. His only preoccupations were food and heat and shadows to chase, and none of those were urgent.

Maybe that was why Frumpkin liked this form best of all. Eagle had made Caleb feel fast and untouchable, like no one could reach him. Ape had made him feel powerful, with weaponized fists. Spider had supernatural senses. Even Bat had its advantages. He’d been stupid, yes, but life had been small – too small for things like Trent Ikithon and continent-sprawling wars to fit inside it.

But Cat. Cat was best.

Small, like Bat, but familiar and natural, like his skin fit just right – as right or maybe even righter than his human skin. Of course, Cat couldn’t do the things Caleb could do. Fireballs to protect his family. Magic dens and clever fingers to identify things that made them safe and strong. They needed Wizard to do that.

But maybe not right now?

Caleb lifted his head…and a paw pressed him down. Frumpkin began rasping his ear with long, soothing strokes of his warm tongue, protecting him in this immediate way, so that all the anxiety, fear, and worry died back down. And for the next thirty-two minutes, everything was soft and quiet and full of rumbles. And it was good.

 _That_ was the first time Caleb turned into a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is! The first chapter of my little Cat-leb story. This is very light, just so you know. It's a soft story, though it does touch on the internal struggle of the Mighty Nein after they lose Yasha to Obann. Most chapters are on the short side, not more than five pages, but they each let me play with a dynamic that goes unspoken between Caleb and his friends, things I'd like to see played out in series. Please let me know what you think of each 'what if' scenario!


	2. Pay Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _
> 
> Nott has been preoccupied lately. Human Caleb understands, but cats are selfish by nature.
> 
> _

The second time Caleb became a cat, it was because of Nott. They’d recently returned from Nicodranas, where Caleb had watched from a painful distance as Veth – _Veth_ , with her plump hands and dimpled cheeks and brown eyes; not his Nott at all – had visited her husband and child. He’d watched her sitting with Luc in her lap and holding hands with Yeza under the table, all shy smiles and blushes and domestic chatter: _“Eat your food, Luc,”_ and, _“Oh, you have some sauce on your cheek, Yeza. Let me get it off.”_

Caleb may have lurked a bit in the hallway outside their bedroom in the Chateau as Nott tucked in her boy, singing him a lullaby with a voice that was all soft touches and feminine warmth.

She’d barely spoken to Caleb the entire trip.

It was natural. Normal for a woman to be more devoted to her spouse and child than an odd stranger she’d met in a prison cell before dredging out a meager living in alleys and under bridges, skimming from trash barrels and avoiding the law. It was true, once he and Nott had been much to each other. They’d been all each other had, but now things were different, and that was good. It was good.

So why did it feel so bad when days went by without talking to her, _really_ talking to her?

Now that they were back in Rosohna, Caleb was still struggling to sort out his feelings. A great loneliness yawned inside, and though he was no stranger to it, the void still muddied his spirit, oppressed his thoughts. From his place tucked into a loaf on Caleb’s pillow, Frumpkin made a disgruntled noise.

“I know,” Caleb said, sinking down onto the bed. “I am being selfish, and yet…”

His words trailed off as an idea kindled. As he’d recently discovered, cats did not fret or obsess over useless thoughts. It was a bit wasteful of components, but surely it would do no harm to steal a few moments for his mind to settle?

It was easy to pull the cocoon out of his pocket, to hear it crackle between his fingers. When the transformation was complete, Caleb slid his nails from their sheathes and bowed into a long, limber stretch. Which was when he noticed a peculiar thing. The misery he’d been feeling had abated, but the sulkiness had not. If anything, it was worse. His favorite person wasn’t paying attention to him. Had not been paying attention to him for a _long time_ , and that was not acceptable.

He was pawing at the door to his room before he’d made a conscious decision to do so. It opened, and he slipped into Nott’s lab. She was there, bent over a series of beakers. Caleb sniffed, trying to discern what she as working on, but although the human inside him had an answer, the cat lost interest before it could properly manifest. After all, that wasn’t what he was here for.

Caleb leaped up on the table, and a shivery, warm feeling filled him. Everything about this Nott was familiar, from her thin cheeks to her long, dark hair, pinned back in a series of braids. The buttons hanging from her neck were a momentary distraction, but they were a small thing, incidental. And aside from that minor detail, there was no hint of Veth. Veth was hidden away, and what remained – _Nott!_ – Caleb loved.

Pleased to be with her, Caleb slunk closer to rub his cheek against her knuckles.

Nott pushed him away. “Not now, Frumpkin.”

An offended shiver went through Caleb from ear to tail-tip. He was _not_ Frumpkin. 

A low, unhappy growl rumbled in Caleb’s throat, and he tried to step under her arm, but Nott only gave an annoyed huff before wrapping her hands around his middle and dumping him unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Go bother Caleb,” she ordered. “I’m working, and I don’t have time to pet you.”

Caleb’s tail was swishing back and forth like a metronome. She was sending him away? Already? She wasn’t even looking at him, just like she never seemed to look at him anymore. Infuriated, he leaped back onto the table and hooked the neck of a glass beaker. _‘Pay attention!’_ he thought, and gave the beaker a nudge. It fell to the floor, where it shattered, spilling its contents everywhere.

“Ahh!” Nott shouted, jumping away from the splatter. “Frumpkin! I spent an hour distilling that!”

He was not Frumpkin! Look! Caleb batted at another vial.

“No!” Nott shrieked, grabbing at him, which was exactly when their gazes met. Caleb narrowed his eyes at her, and Nott’s mouth fell open. “Caleb?”

Finally!

Now that he had her attention, Caleb used the opportunity to air his grievances. He stalked back and forth, filling the air with grumpy cat noises, fussing at her, letting her know that he was unhappy. That he’d been wronged, that she needed to _fix_ it. Finally, he turned his back and faced the corner, dejected.

Nott moved her equipment out of the way, then crawled onto the table. At first, Caleb flattened his ears, ignoring her in the same way she had ignored him, but at the first touch of her tentative fingers, he gave up and faced her with a baleful look.

“Are you angry with me, Caleb?”

He didn’t have words, so he couldn’t explain that it wasn’t really anger he felt. It was hurt. Hurt that had settled in the moment she’d drawn a line between them with those damning words in Felderwin: _Your people._ And though, by then, his love had roots too deep for excision, it had not stopped him from feeling stupid, and abandoned, and later – when the tidal wave of emotion had died down, and Yeza and Luc were safe as they reasonably could be in Nicodranas – from feeling jealous.

But those were human emotions; complicated, petty, sloppy. As a cat, Caleb had no room for them, so instead he stared at the buttons around Nott’s neck, brooding.

Nott followed his gaze. “I guess we haven’t really talked about this,” she said, touching the necklace. “Me being a halfling, Yeza and the boy.” She flexed her hands. Goblin hands. “I kept meaning to tell you, but then there was the war and Xhorhas and the Bright Queen, and it all happened so fast that we never…” She trailed off. “You know it won’t change how I feel about _us_ – what shape I’m in or who I’m with – right?”

It was difficult for Caleb to look at her drooping ears and not want to comfort her, even if he wasn’t sure what she said was true. He stepped onto her lap, pressing close so that her arms went around him automatically. He dared peek at her face, and she kissed him, directly between the eyes.

“I love you, Caleb,” she said.

She wasn’t lying. Caleb could sense it was true, and it filled him with a deep, abiding peace. He loved her, too. He loved her as Nott. He would love her as Veth. He just didn’t want to let go of _them._

Nott giggled, a little wetly. “Does this mean we’re okay?”

Smells, smells, smells. Why did everything smell so nice when he was a cat? Caleb loved the way Nott’s dress carried the scent of silver and gunpowder, how her skin had an iron smell overlaid with the fragrance of cured meat and herbs. He pushed his face into her armpit, and, ah, it was wonderful, feeling this closeness again.

“Oh, Caleb,” Nott said, gathering him into a closer hug. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Caleb pushed his forehead under her chin and purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's my take on jealous, possessive cat-Caleb, channeling his messy feelings about Nott and how their relationship has changed since Felderwin. As a side note, if you'd like to see a picture of what I imagined Catleb looking like, you can find it on my [Tumblr](https://flightofstars.tumblr.com/post/189885646338/fic-post-what-i-cant-say-ill-show-chapter).


	3. Love Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Loving Beauregard is painful, as usual._   
> 

Something was wrong with Beauregard.

It was apparent to anyone who really knew her. For while her movements were as regular and controlled as ever as she slid smoothly through a practice form, the location was all wrong. She wasn’t in the courtyard, harassing Fjord as he attempted to follow her with much clumsier movements. She wasn’t in front of the fire, flexing for Nott and Jester as they watched with half-attention, giggling over items they’d pinched in the market.

No, today she was alone, and that was wrong.

A Beau sequestered away, moving as though her muscles were made of stiff wire, was not a Beau with whom all was well. Besides which, the bedroom was a terrible place for this. Her movements were cramped, her elbows tight against her sides, and her relative speed was much slower than normal.

Caleb’s nose twitched from his hiding place beneath one of the beds. No blood, so she wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t cussing or making active contact with anything, which meant the cause wasn’t a punchable one. There’d been no attempt to meditate, so she _did_ actually want to think about whatever was bothering her.

A mystery.

Caleb liked mysteries, and cats? Well, there was a reason why there was an adage about feline curiosity. Maybe she just needed a distraction?

Slipping out from under the bed, Caleb padded toward Beau, who was so preoccupied she didn’t notice his appearance. Another anomaly. He waited until she paused to rotate her shoulder. Then, just as she began another movement, he stepped between her ankles.

It was almost funny. Of the entire party, Beauregard was by far the most agile, the most athletic. But Caleb was small and she wasn’t fully present, and so when a cat appeared suddenly underfoot, her balance broke. She gave a startled cry, falling to one knee, though of course her reflexes saved her from a full, ignominious faceplant.

Caleb scurried toward the door.

It was questionable, which emotion took precedence on Beauregard’s face once she spotted him: astonishment or anger. With eyes ringed white, she took him in from tip to tail, the wheels turning. Caleb saw the moment it snapped into place because her lip curled, incredulity solidifying into outrage.

“Caleb, you creep!” she snarled. “What are you doing, skulking around in my room, watching me?”

Unable to give any other answer, Caleb showed her his butthole.

“Why you!”

She launched herself at him, but unlike regular Caleb, cat-Caleb had actual reflexes, and by the time her palms hit the floor, he was already well down the hallway. He could hear Beau coming after him, heard Fjord’s incredulous inquiry about what was going on, followed by Beau’s shouted response, but his focus was on getting up the steps and onto the roof, where the veil of Rosohna spread out in eternal, unrelenting night. He’d reached the roots of Caduceus’s tree by the time Beau emerged from the trapdoor.

“Caleb, I don’t care what body you’re in, I’m going to snap you in half!”

Despite the causticness of her words, Caleb already detected a hint of what he’d been after, and before she could reach him, he took the only real escape route available – up! In his human body, his constitution was meager, his strength underwhelming. Yet now! Tiny though he was, his limbs were perfectly tailored to climbing and leaping from branch to branch. His claws bit into the bark, and he knew he would not fall. His brain was sure of it, and he felt his heart leaping with the joy of being high, high, _high_ while Beauregard ate up the space between them, just on his tail.

Caleb was almost to the top of the tree when a hand erupted from the leaves in front of him and snatched him by the scruff. Through he attempted to twist free, Beau’s strength was greater, and he found himself dangling, feet kicking ineffectively as he tried to scissor his body upward and get a hold of her hand.

“Ah-ah,” she said, giving him a shake. “You stop that right now or I really will snap your neck, and then we’ll see just how comfortable you are up here as a skinny wizard instead of a seven-pound cat.”

That sounded dreadful, so Caleb went limp. Tucking his paws into his chest, he gazed at her pitifully.

With a groan of disgust, Beau gave one more half-hearted shake, then set back against the tree and drew him to her chest. Her arm was tight, too tight, really, but Caleb nudged her chin with his forehead nonetheless. She glared back.

“Would you quit it with the cute act, already? It ain’t gonna work.”

She said that, but her fingers were already running restlessly through his fur, making furrows in his thick coat. Caleb kneaded her thigh, digging in his claws, and she let him hop onto the branch. When she didn’t say anything, her abstracted look returning by increments, he gave an insistent meow.

“Gods, how are you still so loud, even when you can’t talk?” Beau complained. “What? You have something to say to me?”

Caleb batted at the sash tied around her waist. It was blue, and still smelled like Dairon. Beau let him do it until his claw snagged. Then she tugged it away.

“I’m not talking about the damn Cobalt Soul,” she said, but there was a heaviness about her words that made Caleb wonder. Expositor Beau. It was, on the surface, what his friend had always wanted. Authority, rather than being held under authority. Respect. Influence.

Caleb – not cat-Caleb but regular Caleb – knew the allure of that.

“It’s just,” Beau said after a long moment. “I thought it would be awesome, getting this far. I’m not just some kidnappee or reluctant accolade anymore, getting my ass kicked every day on the mat and having my brains melted with boring lessons. I’m not even, like, the punk who ran off to do their own thing, only to have Zeenoth show up and drag me back by my ear. I’m here, in Xhorhas, with you guys, and we’re, like, _emissaries_ doing diplomatic shit, and I’m closer to accomplishing Dairon’s mission than even – gods! It’s just, a lot, you know? I’m practically a career screwup, Caleb. Nobody’s ever expected anything of me, and now they are, and it’s freaking me out!”

Caleb watched her tug at the torque around her neck as though it were choking her and understood. Intellect, like authority, had burdens as well as benefits. And Beau, for all her force of personality, was twenty-three years old.

A deep fondness filled him. It was strange. Even though they were so different, he felt he understood Beau better than any of the others. Maybe it was the humanness, or the empire-ness, or maybe it was a soul thing, like the stories his mother told him about a time long ago when people used to have two heads and one soul before being separated into creatures with one head and half a soul, who looked their whole lives for the part that went missing. Maybe he and Beau were like that.

“You get it,” Beauregard said. “If you didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here next to a damn cat, right?”

Caleb did get it. He knew plenty about letting down people who depended on you, but that would not happen to Beau. _‘We trust you,’_ he thought. _‘We saw something in you from the beginning, and we’ll be here to help you succeed, come what may.’_

But, of course, he couldn’t say any of that, so instead he bit her knuckle, hard.

“Dammit, Caleb!”

This time, when she grabbed him, Caleb didn’t try to get away. He licked her hand, rubbed it with his cheek, and nibbled again. She squeezed, and it hurt, like everything with her hurt, but the closeness was worth the pain. It always had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely adore Beau's voice and mannerisms, and with the shocking amount of feedback I've received for this little story, I was feeling inspired. So new chapter again today! This one was so much easier. Caleb and Beauregard are just, such good dynamic. Man, I love them.


	4. Talk to Me in the Middle of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _Fjord wakes up to something sharp poking him in the eye._

Fjord woke up in the middle of the night because something needle-like was poking him in the eye. He came up with a shout, covers pooling in his lap as his sword snapped to his hand with a burst of snow and frost, which crept harmlessly over his fingers. He cast around for a shape, an attacker – _anything_ – when he was overtaken by a sudden, forceful sneeze.

“Meow?”

He looked toward his crotch, where a furry animal sat, gazing at him with fox-fire eyes. Pointed ears, a tail, whiskers, and a pair of innocent-looking paws with claws tucked inside, no doubt the source of the eyeball poking. In other words, a cat. Fjord’s nose was already running.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Sleep lingered, but Fjord was awake enough now to wonder if their resident wizard had sent his familiar for help. Finding the door partially open, he picked up the cat and set it in the hallway, watching to see what it would do. It curled its tail around its feet and stared at him.

It was hardly a posture of urgency.

“I’m going to assume Caleb is fine,” Fjord said to the cat. “So I’m going back to sleep and shutting my door behind me, because – and this is nothing personal, mind – you make me feel like dying.”

He’d barely pulled the door closed, however, before a paw shot underneath. An unhappy sound came from the other side, and Fjord opened the door again. The cat scurried inside, winding around his legs and rubbing against his ankles.

Fjord ran his fingers through his hair, perplexed. “What do you _want_?”

The cat stepped into the hallway. Stopped. Looked back.

Which is how Fjord found himself wandering through the halls of their home in Rosohna on the heels of a wizard’s cat, feeling like an idiot. They ended up in the kitchen, where the cat jumped onto the counter and waited expectantly. Did it want to be fed? Did familiars even do that? He remembered Caleb giving it milk, but Fjord got the sense Frumpkin didn’t _need_ to eat. Maybe he just liked it?

He picked up a slightly stale loaf of bread with seeds worked into the crumb and began tearing it into pieces. The cat batted them around the table’s surface, then hunched over to take a bite.

Fjord watched for a moment, then reached out to stroke the animal’s back. The fur was soft – thick and long. Actually, it was longer than he was used to seeing on Frumpkin, and it didn’t have spots anymore. Caleb must have brought it back a little different since the last time he did that ritual.

“I can’t believe I let a magic cat get me out of bed in the middle of the night,” Fjord said. “Strange thought, actually. _My bed._ That’s a new experience. I’ve had a cot and I’ve had a bunk, but a bed that was mine, in a room that stayed in one place?”

The cat looked up.

Fjord wondered what it was thinking, but its face was entirely non-descript, as blank and unknowable as Caleb himself. “You’re as much a puzzle as your owner, you know that?”

The cat tipped its head to the side.

“Not that he isn’t a good man. I’ve gotten attached, you know. To him and the rest.” He scratched his chin, which was rough. He’d have to shave in the morning. “I mean, he’s a bit cagey. Nosey, too. But it’s not that I don’t want to talk to him. It’s just the words aren’t easy, and I’ve made such a long habit of keeping things to myself, every secret I give up is like something else wrenched from my control. I don’t like that feeling. I barely have a grip on who I am right now. Though it _is_ getting easier.”

He thought of Caduceus and his patient guidance. Of Jester’s encouraging smiles, and of Beau, asking _him_ of all people for advice. Of Nott’s digs, which, however they sometimes stung, could only be traded between friends. And Caleb – the man as full of secrets as Fjord himself, who alternated between holding those secrets back and thrusting them into Fjord’s chest. The man who asked for exchange.

“Of everybody, I guess Caleb and I have been on the most uncertain ground,” he confessed. “But I trust him, and that’s not easy. For me.”

The cat put a paw on his forearm and blinked very slowly. For some reason, it made Fjord think of a smile.

He narrowed his eyes. “Frumpkin, you aren’t going to, like, telepathically share all this with Caleb, are you?”

The cat nipped gently at his fingers. Fjord assumed that meant ‘no’, but the cat had already started nibbling another piece of bread, so it was hard to say.

“Cats and wizards,” Fjord muttered. He really didn’t understand either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the first questions I asked myself when I was planning out these chapter was, who would recognize Caleb, even as a cat? The one person I was certain would not? Fjord and Caleb's interactions are wonderfully awkward, and one of my favorite patterns is how insistently Caleb tries to get Fjord to open up. This chapter was born from that dynamic. Catleb really, _really_ wants Fjord to have a deep conversation with him.
> 
> Caleb: _Please_ , Fjord. _Bond with me!_  
>  Fjord: ...


	5. Coping Mechanism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Caduceus isn’t convinced this is entirely healthy, but it’s fine._

It had become a running joke among the Mighty Nein, referring to Caleb as stinky, but the truth was that his coat – both old and new – was fundamentally imbued with the arcane. His pockets were brimming with components. A thumb-sized jar of molasses. A stick of kohl. Of course, the bat guano in its leather bag, which never quite remained closed. The oiled cloth of phosphorus, the pearl bead, the curl of copper wire.

To anyone else, it would have seemed like nothing more than a disorderly collection of dirt and random objects, but to Caleb, it was a means of acting on the world, even of changing it.

Increasingly, though, there was one component that was more important to him than others. He kept it in a wooden box, one with a sliding lid he could open with his thumb, drawing its contents into his hand in one fluid motion. And what was this component? Fragile, near-translucent butterfly cocoons. By crushing the fragile cocoons between his fingers, he was able to change for his friends. To become more. More strength, more speed. Flight. Extra senses. Extra stealth.

Or.

Or he could – when things were not so urgent – change for himself. To rest when his mind was restless, to comfort, to play. Basically, to slip out of _Caleb_ for a while and put on a less loaded skin.

Which was why there was a ginger cat dozing in front of the fireplace in the Xhorhaus common room, stretched out long and limber while the fire warmed his coat and he blinked, letting himself drift harmlessly in cat-like thoughts, which weren’t very much like thoughts at all. A creak of floorboards made Caleb’s ears twitch, rotating backward as another person darkened the door.

“Oh,” Caduceus said genially. “I didn’t realize someone was using this room. Should I go somewhere else?”

Caleb lifted his head in greeting.

Lips quirked, Caduceus said, “If you’re sure.”

Caduceus drew up his long legs, folding them across one another. In his hands, he cradled a steaming mug which smelled like mint and wood, and something else, aged and musty. Or maybe that was Caduceus himself? Caleb arched his back, stepping closer. He had easy access to Caduceus’s foot, which he investigated with his sensitive nose. Like the rest of Caduceus, it was lightly furred, and Caleb rubbed his cheek against it, curious about the texture.

Next he hopped onto the firbolg’s knee, then stepped into his lap. It was much warmer and softer than the rug, and the smell was stronger. He turned around and around, settling into a ball. If only Caduceus would…

Five long fingers came down, scratching him between the ears.

Caleb’s eyes fell half-closed and dreamy. Ah.

“I’m going to be honest, Caleb,” Caduceus said, keeping up his scratching. “I don’t know how healthy this is.”

Distantly, Caleb knew what he meant. As a coping method, polymorph was questionable, but if he had been Caleb-Caleb, would he be here, curled up with Caduceus by the fire? Would the fire itself feel this wonderful if his human brain were along to ruin it with palpitations and triggers?

Caleb turned over onto his back, offering up his belly.

Caduceus chuckled. “You make a good point, I guess. The Wildmother did grant a special kindness to animals. An ability to live in the moment. If I could spend a day – or an hour, I suppose – in their skin, I would probably take it, too.”

That made Caleb’s ears perk. He couldn’t help but imagine a feline version of Caduceus. A giant Maine coon, perhaps, with a ruff of grey fur and kind, pink eyes. He could do it. He had changed his friends before. But now wasn't the right time. Now there were scratches and safe, musky smells.

Caduceus started to hum, deep in his chest, and it was so like purring that Caleb joined in automatically. The two of them stayed that way, at peace, until the hour was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, I know, but for Caduceus and Caleb, I just wanted soft boys in front of a fireplace being quiet. Also! I ended up adding a surprise bonus chapter! Want to guess who it features? (Hint: It's not Yasha. Sorry, Yasha).


	6. When You Mourn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Caleb isn’t ordinarily equipped to offer physical comfort, but right now he is soft and small and warm, so it’s easier._

It was the middle of the night, though, of course, in Xhorhas, that distinction was more about who was active and who was not. The Mighty Nein were a mixed bag; it wasn’t uncommon to find Nott puttering around with chemicals at all hours, or Caduceus down in the kitchen kneading dough, or Fjord sitting in the living room, alternating between whetting his new blade and staring thoughtfully into the fireplace. That said, they’d only just returned from another encounter with Obann, and their spirits as well as their bodies were exhausted. Almost everyone had trudged off to their respective rooms as soon as the adrenaline ebbed.

Caleb himself felt like his body was made of splinters, every thought piercing him until he couldn’t even pretend to sleep. By this time, he knew what he was craving. He reached for the wooden box, felt the crinkle of a cocoon between his fingers, and twisted. Tail, tooth, fur. The near-panic faded immediately, being outside of his feline capacity, but the restlessness remained.

Which was how he found himself pacing the house. He nosed his way into Nott’s room first and found her tucked into a ball around her pillow. She didn’t wake when he settled behind her shoulders for a few moments, though she did sigh and relax into looser sprawl.

Fjord was in bed, too, his clothes discarded in a pile with only his armor set neatly in its place on a chair. He had one arm flung over his face, but while he murmured a bit as though passing through a dream, he didn’t seem distressed. Caleb left before the poor man started sneezing.

Caduceus was on the roof, cuddled against the roots of the tree Caleb had given him so long ago. An empty cup sat beside him, and there was a beetle on his cheek, sleepily ruffling its wings. Caleb’s behind rose, wiggling at the sight of it, but he managed to get his instincts under control before he acted on them. Instead, he nudged Caduceus’s hand, which caused the firebolg to smile in his sleep. Caleb smiled, too, though it was all in his eyes.

In the girl’s room, Beau was snoring. It was a comforting sound. She had one leg flung off the side of her bed, and her body was twisted into a shape that would have been uncomfortable for anyone else. Caleb leaped onto her pillow and examined her face. Her brow was slightly furrowed, but she seemed okay. By her ear, he deposited the mouse he’d caught for her to find when she woke up.

Jester should have been his final stop, yet when he padded over to the other bed, it was empty. The covers were rumpled, like the occupant _had_ laid there not long ago, had perhaps even tossed and turned before giving up, as Caleb had, and abandoning the bed altogether. But where was she?

Caleb wandered the halls, pausing to sniff from time to time, which was how he ended up in front of Yasha’s room. The door was slightly cracked, and for a moment, Caleb’s fur stood up on his back. This…wasn’t a room any of them spent time in, not since Obann had taken Yasha away. It was too painful for some, too confusing for others. So the door stayed closed.

Not tonight.

Cautiously, Caleb approached. His kitty heart naturally beat harder than his human one, but now he could feel it against his ribs. His head fit through the crack, ears bent back. With eyes that could more easily pierce the dark than usual, he assessed the shadowed corners. There was nothing unexpected until he reached the bed. There, a figure hunched, and as he listened, he could hear the short, sharp gasps it was making. Wet inhales. Mewling sounds.

Crying.

Without further compunction, Caleb went to Jester. There was a dim light coming through the window, for though the artificial night of Rosohna afforded no daylight, it did not check the stars or the two pale moons of Exandria, one high and one low on the horizon. In their washed out glow, he could see Jester’s curling horns, bowed low. Her cheek, pale and curved, buried in her hands. He opened his mouth and called to her.

Her head jerked up. “Frumpkin?”

Caleb stepped nearer, tail lashing in distress. He gave another soft chirp.

“Oh,” Jester said, eyes widening. She wiped her wrist across her nose. “Caleb. I didn’t know you were awake. I was just…just…”

She didn’t say what she was doing. Instead, her eyes trailed to the walls, where you could just make out the outline of flowers. Jester had painted them all, each with love and care. She’d painted them to make this a home for their friend, who had known no home, at least not in a very long time. And before Yasha even had a chance to rest in that feeling, she was gone, stolen as surely as she had been when the Iron Shepherds had taken her in the night. And so far, they had failed to get her back.

Jester buried her face in her hands and began crying again, this time in earnest. Her sobs were barely muffled, and the sound of them was so distressing Caleb knew he must do something.

Had he been human, this would have been near impossible. He could barely hug Beauregard. His words, so clumsy in common, would likely have fumbled in circles and leant no comfort. Inept didn’t even begin to cover his ability in such a situation. Yet, by some twist of fate, he was, in this moment, small and soft and warm. And though he had no arms and had no voice, perhaps there was something he could do.

He reared up, put his paw on her knee, and bunted his forehead against her arm. When she shuddered, he climbed onto her lap, nudging and pushing until her arms came around him, holding him like she might hold Nugget or Sprinkle – with her face buried in his fur. He reciprocated, kneading her shoulder with his paws, baring in just enough for her to know he was there, and rumbled in a constant, low, comforting noise while she wet his neck with tears.

Eventually, the weeping subsided to hiccups, and then to mere sniffles. Jester pulled back, and Caleb licked the tears from her cheek with a rough tongue. She giggled. “Cay-leb. Are you kissing me?”

Caleb stared steadily into her eyes. Trying to convey, by doing so, that he understood why she was here. That it was okay for her to be sad, to mourn. That he was with her. When her lip wobbled, he nosed her face, leaving more cold, wet kitty kisses along her freckles. She giggled again, wetly, and squeezed him.

“Thank you, Caleb. You never make me feel bad for being… _not-happy._ ”

It was one of her things, like they all had things, but Caleb was glad that Jester knew she didn’t have to be happy with him. She could be angry. She could be frustrated. She could be grouchy. And she could be sad. He knew a great deal about being sad, obviously.

Jester was playing with his paw pads. “These are so squishy. It must be nice, being a kitty. Like being a moth, or a bat.”

Caleb’s ears perked. The melancholy on the edge of her voice was so familiar, it gave him an idea. He squirmed until her arms loosened, then hopped onto the bed where he could get access to her belt. The symbol to the Traveler hung there, even over her nightgown, and he batted it with his paw. It jingled.

“What are you doing, Caleb?” He arched his back, turned in a circle, then batted her symbol again. This time, Jester’s eyes got wide. “Oh!”

He loved the way her face lit up as she snatched the symbol and folded it between her hands. Her lips, no longer thin and stressed, were twisted up in mischief as she muttered a few words, and then there was no longer a grieving tiefling sitting on the edge of the bed. Instead, there was a stout, fluffy dog with a ruff around its neck like a furry halo and two twinkling eyes. The creature was, of course, blue. Its tongue lolled out happily.

Cat Caleb sat back on his haunches. This was _not_ what he’d expected.

Jester’s new, curly tail beat the air with delight. She romped around Caleb, who was approximately her size, and began coating him in saliva. Caleb tried to push away with his paws, but he was soon on his back, being squished into the blankets and slobbered into oblivion. Ugh.

When it became intolerable, he twisted free and ran out of the door, leaving the eeriness of Yasha’s room behind. Jester bounded after him, and the two chased each other around the house, hearts filled with light feelings, before finally ending up in Jester’s room. Jester made herself a nest on her pillow, then whined and pawed until Caleb laid down beside her. Her muzzle slotted over his back, nuzzling him, and he could sense the calmer energy in her as her eyes blinked sleepily.

He would wait, Caleb decided, until she drifted off. Then, once the spell dropped along with her concentration, he would return to his own room. He let his eyes slit into crescents, content to wait, and wrapped his tail around him.

The next morning he awoke to Beauregard’s growly voice, loudly demanding, “What the hell?”

Eyes fluttering open, he found Jester’s nose against his own. Her arms were around his waist, and he could feel her tail over his legs. His very human legs. Caleb shot upright, his face so violently flushed his freckles stood out like white-hot embers. “I apologize,” he muttered, shoving himself out of bed and hurrying from the room.

At his back, he heard Jester saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Beau. We were just cuddling. Caleb is very soft and fluffy.”

Beauregard repeated, _“What the hell?”_

Caleb may or may not have hid in his room for the rest of the day, unwilling to confront any awkward questions. However, some of his intense regret faded when, later that evening, a familiar voice filled his head. _“Thank you, Cay-leb,”_ it whispered, almost shyly.

Caleb smiled a small, private smile, one he reserved almost exclusively for Jester. “You’re welcome,” he said. Jester and he were so unalike in some ways it was comical, cats and dogs, but in this they had an understanding. Sometimes life was too much, and when it was, simplicity could be a refuge. And in that refuge, it was even better to have a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's lovely whenever Caleb gives Jester a platform to emote honestly, and she takes him up on it. Their conversation in Darktow remains one of my favorite scenes, which is where the inspiration for this chapter came from. They're very honest with one another, I think, and its clear Caleb adores Jester. Thus kitty-doggo shenanigans! I imagined Jester as a Pomeranian, in case you wanted to know. A blue Pomeranian. :)


	7. Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _Essek has an unusual encounter one evening while out in the city._

Sometimes, Essek’s interactions with the Mighty Nein felt like something out a dream. A strange dream which ended with one waking up, tangled in the sheets, sweating and paranoid and needing to get up and pace. A dream you forgot in the morning, except for the uneasy feeling it left in its wake. His custodianship of the ragtag group of Empire-defectors was like that. They had certainly given him much to think about, and they did add an irregularity to his otherwise well-ordered life as Shadowhand to the Bright Queen. Whether that was good or bad, he had yet to decide.

One thing he _was_ certain of was that their human wizard, Caleb Widogast, was interesting.

Essek remembered the first time he’d seen the man, wearing a harness and a veiled expression. He’d seemed hardly notable in that moment, a curiosity at best, if a regrettable one. A human slave. How grotesque. Yet the truth had been even more surprising, and when Caleb stepped forward with the Luxon Beacon in hand, his words like honeyed amber, his face had been lit from within with a brightness that could not be hidden by his filthiness or the leather collar or the hanging, ragged coat he wore. And it was that glimpse of brightness that had kept Essek’s attention ever since. That sense of something _more_ , something _potential._

It made Essek think that, if he kept investigating, kept prodding, he might indeed find the heart of Caleb Widogast, and that heart might indeed be something worth revealing.

But Caleb, like the rest of his people, was a strange one – _giant, lighted trees and jacuzzies shaped by magic and jingling door bells_ – and whenever Essek was sure he’d seen just how strange they could be, they surprised him. Such thoughts were flitting though his mind as he walked down the street on his way back from the Marble Tomes Conservatory. He’d been doing some research on the Angel of Irons, and naturally thoughts of the Mighty Nein followed. However, they’d mostly drifted on to his dinner and the papers he needed to read after when a crashing sound caught his attention.

Ordinarily, he would have ignored it. He was Shadowhand to Leylas Kryn, Consecuted of Den Thelyss. He was busy. And yet _something_ – a tug of fate perhaps – made him pause at the opening of a narrow side street. Another clamor, followed by movement and a streak of raspy cursing. Essek called forth three violet orbs of light, and as the shadows slid away, he found his eyes locked with two goblin-kin, one of whom was strangling something by the neck.

Taking advantage of its captors’ surprise, the hostage rabbited its legs. The goblin hissed, dropping its quarry, and the creature – a small feline – darted away. However, it ran, not into the darkness, but toward Essek, where it hid behind his robe and arched its back, hissing at its attackers. Essek raised an eyebrow.

He turned back to the goblins, who’d paled with horror. Their yellow eyes were darting all over, from the broach of the dodecahedron at Essek’s collar to the bottom of his silver-lined cloak. It was clear they were aware of his station, if not his exact identity, and the smarter of the two made obsequious motions. “Oh, my lord,” he said. “A mistake. We didn’t know the beastie was yours. We’re sorry. So sorry.”

It was not an unreasonable conclusion. Essek glanced at the animal at his feet, its coat bloodied, its tail a bottle brush of agitation. Well, why not?

He made his back straight, donned his most aloof expression. “It’s considered a crime, harassing a wizard’s familiar.”

The goblins visibly tensed. “Oh, no!” they cried. “We didn’t. We was just hungry, and it looked tasty. We wouldn’t have touched if we knew. The magicky ones don’t even taste good.” The goblins spat, eyeing him peripherally as though gauging whether he was convinced. Essek suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

Instead, he gave a dismissive tilt of his chin. “If that’s the case, I suggest you leave my sight before I forget how many more pressing issues I have to deal with and decide to make something of your _‘mistake.’_ ”

The goblins didn’t have to be told twice. Once they were gone, Essek gazed down at his unexpected acquisition, who, aside from being a bit ruffled, seemed mostly unharmed. The cat returned his gaze without fear. It had an intelligent, quizzical face, a tawny, long-haired coat, and blue eyes.

“Hello,” Essek said. “I don’t see many of your kind in Rosohna.”

It was true. Domesticated cats, especially ones so small, were not ubiquitous in the Dynasty, though some did keep them as a kind of exotic pet. In fact, his first thought when he’d glimpsed the animal was of Caleb. However, the human’s familiar was larger, its coat spotted. Yet there was something lingeringly familiar about this creature.

The feline didn’t show any signs of leaving. It groomed some of the blood off its coat, shook itself so its fur flattened into a less agitated state, and watched Essek with a calm, expectant expression.

“I’ll be leaving,” Essek said. “Do try to stay out of trouble.”

He continued on his way, but to his surprise, the cat didn’t leave him. It trotted at his side, keeping pace as he went through the streets and byways until he reached the Firmaments. There, as the roof of the Nein’s home came into view with its ostentatious lights, the animal paused.

“Is this your stop, then?” It made sense. The wealthy families of the Firmaments would be the most likely to keep such a pet.

The cat gave a thin, quiet meow, and Essek couldn’t resist lowering himself to the ground so he could stoop and stroke its back. It butted against his hand, seemingly pleased with the attention. Then it tensed and darted off into the shadows. Essek waited, curious. A moment later, the animal rejoined him. It had a black adder in its mouth, still wriggling. Bones crunched as it bit down, then the feline set the body at Essek’s feet.

“Ah,” said Essek, mildly horrified. Not that the gift was without use. An adder’s stomach, skin, and tongue were all spell components, and fresh materials were always the most potent.

Favor returned, the cat turned its back and trotted into the Firmaments. Essek straightened, the snake limp in his fingers.

“Very strange,” he muttered, off balance. It was a not-unfamiliar feeling, though what exactly that meant, he was not certain. Funnily enough, as he continued toward his home, he was struck with a desire to visit the Mighty Nein when it was convenient.

Perhaps Caleb would be interested in another lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would Essek have recognized Caleb in his cat form? Maybe or maybe not. For the interest of this story, let's just say he failed his perception check. Next chapter is last chapter! It's set in Nicodranas post-Yasha's return from Obann and has two special cuties as guest characters. I cannot wait to show you! :)


	8. Child's Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _The Nein decide Hupperdook is too dangerous for Kiri, so they bring her to Nicodranas. Luc and Kiri adjust, and Caleb helps._

“Get into trouble!”

Luc looked up from where he was sprawled on his belly, playing with some wooden figurines Uncle Fjord had carved for him. Kiri was fluttering her hands, the feathers around her neck fluffed up with excitement.

Luc turned over, interested. Kiri always had the neatest ideas. “What is it, Kiri?”

The Kenku girl seemed too overcome to answer properly. When Kiri first came to live in Nicodranas, Jester had explained that Kenku didn’t use words the way other races did. It was like a game, where they picked and chose from other people’s voices. Luc thought it was marvelous, especially when he found out Kiri knew lots of other sounds, too. She was also bold and daring. Dad said she was a little too daring because she would sometimes scurry into large crowds and disappear, climb trees and tall furniture, slid down stairs, and hide under tables in the Chateau’s dining room in order to sneak shiny beads and buttons off people’s clothing.

“She’s had to be tough to survive,” Mister Caleb murmured when Dad brought up his concerns, “and learn to fend for herself. Besides which, she has a natural affinity for adventure.”

“We might be responsible for that,” Uncle Fjord said under his breath.

“ _You’re_ the one who gave her a dagger, like, ten damn seconds after we met her,” Auntie Beau retorted.

Dad’s hands crept toward his face. “A _dagger_?”

“It’s sharp!” Kiri agreed, before making several stabbing motions with an invisible weapon. She looked like she knew what she was doing, and that made Luc jealous.

“How come you didn’t give me a dagger?” he demanded.

“Ah.” Mom grew panicked. Her hands went into her bag. “Here, play with this arrow!”

Dad’s voice got high and squeaky. “Veth!”

“It’s fine,” she reassured him. “It’s not even an explosive one.”

The conversation had sort of fallen apart at that point, with everyone talking over one another, and Mom’s voice vacillating all over the place, and Dad putting his head in his hands. Luc was starting to get stressed listening to the adults argue when he felt a hand on his back, guiding him outside along with Kiri, whom Mister Caleb led by the hand. When they reached the wall outside the Chateau, he lifted them so they could sit and look at the sun going down over Nicodranas. It was quieter, and Kiri leaned against Mister Caleb’s arm, saying, “I am a good girl.”

Mister Caleb patted her. “You certainly are. Never doubt that, _spätzchen._ ”

Luc spoke up. “Are Mom and Dad angry?”

“No, I don’t think so. It is just a – a difficult thing, raising little ones, and your parents are navigating how to do that, especially now that your family has grown to include Kiri. They want to keep you both safe, but also allow you to live a full and happy life. No doubt they will figure it out; your mother and father are very smart.”

Luc’s dad was one of the smartest people he knew, and his mom? Well, she could do almost anything. Reassured, he pointed toward the sunrise. “Is that the way you’re going when you leave?”

“Yes, that’s the way to Rosohna, where we live now. Though one day, your mother plans to return here. She cannot do it right now because the Mighty Nein need her too much, but that won’t be forever. Do you understand, Luc?”

This was something Luc had thought about many times, mostly when he woke up in the middle of the night after nightmares of vague, ghoulish faces that hissed angry phrases in Goblin and pinched his arms like they might eat him. Most of the time, though, especially now that his dad was back with him, he was content to imagine his mom on adventures, firing her crossbow bolt and finding lots of neat treasures to bring him on her next visit. And, in the meantime, he had Kiri and Nugget and his new school. Nicodranas was a big place for a halfling boy, more than big enough to keep him busy.

Luc wrapped his hand around Mister Caleb’s thumb and index finger. “It’s okay. I know you’ll take good care of her.”

Mister Caleb’s throat bobbed, and, when he answered, his voice was rather hoarse. “Yes, of course,” he said. He paused to clear his throat. “However – and I do not mean to scare you – this life we lead, there are no guarantees.”

Kiri spoke up then, using a voice that Luc didn’t recognize. “Take care of them,” she said sadly.

Mister Caleb curled slightly inward, his mouth tight with grief. He stroked the feathers on Kiri’s forehead. “Quite,” he said. Then, to Luc, “That is why you must always give you mother a very big hug when she goes away, just in case.”

Luc was a child of war. His earliest memories were soaked in blood and hunger, his later ones of fire, angry men and women, a long, hard road, soldiers, and of being in the care of strangers. So, yes, he understood ‘just in case.’ He promised Mister Caleb, “I will.”

“Good,” he said, giving Luc’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You are a good boy.”

“She’s probably a good egg,” Kiri pipped up in Mister Caleb voice, and he laughed; a low, rumbly sound that made Luc feel reassured.

“Yes, Kiri,” he told her. “As I said, you are also very good.”

The next morning, the Nein left again. Mom awkwardly smoothed his hair and touched his cheeks until she finally snatched him into a hug, crushing him against her. “I love you,” she said, and then she disappeared into a magic circle while Luc and Dad and Kiri waved goodbye. When the glow faded, Luc’s chest was tight, so Kiri grabbed his hand. “I can send a message,” she said kindly.

Luc nodded. Auntie Jester would message them a lot. And, anyway, they’d be back.

And so they had. Like a storm blowing in off the ocean, they arrived suddenly four days ago, looking ragged but happy, and Miss Yasha was with them! They settled in like they were planning to stay a while, and Dad held Mom’s hand with a glow on his face like they were really, really in love. It was gross.

Since then, they’d done a lot of things. They’d gone to the beach and the lighthouse and went to visit Mister Yussa, who gave them cookies that tasted like gingerbread for the first bite and shortbread the next. They’d played games and told stories. Today, though, Luc was relaxing at home when Kiri came up to him and made her declaration: “Get into trouble!”

Luc was already sold on whatever she wanted to do. Mom had gone off with the other adults to do some shopping, so it had been a pretty boring morning. Kiri lead him into the courtyard, where the sun warmed the stones beneath his bare feet. He squirmed happily, as he always did when he smelled the ocean and felt the heat of his new city. Looking around, he found the walled area mostly empty, like it usually was during the day.

Kiri pointed, imitating the sounds of a purring cat, and Luc saw an orange tabby sprawled on the steps leading up to the kitchen. Its tail was flicking sleepily, its eyes closed. Luc felt a surge of excitement. “You want to play with Frumpkin?” Unlike other cats, Frumpkin never scratched or bit, and although he did climb out of reach whenever Mister Caleb wasn’t around, it was still fun to chase him.

Instead of the hearty agreement Luc expected, Kiri shook her head. “Nein,” she said in perfect imitation of Mister Caleb’s voice. “It’s me, Bren.”

Luc scratched his head. Sometimes Kiri didn’t make any sense. “No, I’m Bren. Luc Brenatto.”

Kiri narrowed her eyes like she thought he was stupid, but instead of repeating herself, she started making her way across the courtyard on tiptoes. Catching on to the game, Luc did his best to follow stealthy like his mom taught him. They crept toward the cat, who didn’t move except to stretch, claws coming out of their sheathes and then retracting as it settled onto its side.

When they were only a few feet away, Kiri laid a long black feather across her lips. “Shh. Stay quiet,” she whispered in Uncle Fjord’s voice. She crouched, and then she pounced. “Yeah! Behind! Yeah!” she celebrated, clicking and cooing in a birdish way as she danced from foot to foot.

Luc danced, too. “You got ‘em! You got ‘em! Wow, that was great.”

“It’s an amphibious assault,” Kiri boasted, puffing out her chest. Then she cackled like Auntie Beau did when she got someone in a headlock.

The orange cat, who had initially twisted to get away, went completely still. It didn’t resist, but hung in Kiri’s arms, legs dangling. It was a boy cat, but it wasn’t Frumpkin. Its hairs were too long. “Good kitty,” Luc cooed, mimicking Jester’s tone when she spoke to Nugget, which always made the dog stick out his tongue in ecstasy. The cat seemed less impressed. “What now?”

Kiri headed toward the house. “I’ll carry this leather to the cart,” she said, explaining nothing.

Once inside, things became clearer. Kiri fetched a brush and settled on the rug. “Oh!” said Luc. An idea occurred, and he ran to the guest room where the Mighty Nein stayed during their visits. As he’d hoped, Mister Caleb’s coat was lying across the bed. Luc shook the pockets until one of them jingled, then fished out the silver bell. He made one more stop before rejoining Kiri.

“Look!” He waved a green ribbon. “See what I got for the kitty?”

Kiri whistled in approval. She still had the cat between her legs, grooming him. Luc sat down and reached for the brush. “Can I have a turn?”

Kiri jerked the brush away. “Go fuck yourself!”

Luc waged his finger. “That’s a swear, Kiri,” he said, because it seemed like his duty to remind her. “You’re not supposed to swear.”

“Fuck,” Kiri repeated, just because she could, and Luc had to admit, it was a pretty good swear. He wondered if he could get away with using it, but knew he couldn’t. Dad would put his nose in a corner, which just went to show how unfair life was with sisters.

Still, that didn’t mean he was going to let himself get pushed around. He put his hands on his hips. “That’s mean, Kiri! You’re supposed to share.”

The Kenku girl glared at him, drawing both cat and brush closer to her. “I killed people,” she threatened.

Luc gazed back uneasily. He wasn’t sure if he was true, but Kiri could play awfully rough when she wanted. Deciding it was probably best not to risk it, Luc let Kiri have her way. It _was_ nice seeing her so happy. Kiri was _resilient_ , as Mama Marion liked to call it, but that didn’t change the fact that she sometimes wept under her covers at night and occasionally looked into the west, whispering, “I miss you,” under her breath. Luc didn’t know who she missed. Probably it was a lot of people, or even places, like how Luc missed the smell of moist earth during planting time, something Nicodranas didn’t have. Luc didn’t want Kiri to be sad, so he really didn’t mind just watching while she brushed the kitty.

When the cat’s fur was floofy and sticking out everywhere, Kiri finally allowed Luc to tie the bell under his chin, along with a big bow. They both smiled at the animal, who gazed up at them with long-suffering blue eyes. Luc asked, “What do you think, Kiri?”

Kiri plucked at the feathers underneath her chin, then perked up. She tugged on her tunic. “Your underwear?”

This time, Luc caught on immediately. “Right. Give me a second!”

He returned with a jumper Mama Edith had knitted for him. It took a little pushing and pulling, but eventually they got paws and ears in the right places. When it was on, Luc was pleased to find the jumper was almost exactly the right size. Luc wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn the cat sighed.

“What’s this?”

The voice came from behind them, and Luc whipped around. Mom and Dad were home! Auntie Beau stuck in her head and snorted. “Oh, gods. That’s so cute I’m gonna hurl.”

Kiri held out the cat, sporting his bell and bowtie and little sweater. He looked pretty great, if Luc did say so himself. Mom had her hand over her mouth, and she was making a kind of sputtering noise like someone who needed to cough. Her eyes were shining, though. “Oh, Lukey,” she said. “I’ve never seen him look better.”

The cat, who was once again dangling in Kiri’s arms, made a miserable, betrayed kind of sound.

“Oh, don’t start,” Auntie Beau said. “Nobody forced you to let them do that. You chose this.”

“I think it’s sweet,” said Miss Yasha. “You’re very good with children, Caleb.”

Caleb? Puzzled, Luc blinked at the kitty, trying to put the pieces together. Finally, a light went off, and his mouth dropped open. Mister Caleb had, by some wondrous feat of magic, turned himself into a cat so he could play with them! A huge smile broke out on his face. “Mister Caleb, you’re so cool!”

Kiri whistled in agreement. “It’s me, Bren!”

“Oh, gods,” Auntie Beau repeated.

Dad stepped forward. “Now, children, it’s wonderful you had such a nice time with Mister Caleb, but I’m sure he’s tired now, so why don’t we say ‘thank you’ and let him go?”

Luc and Kiri exchanged disappointed looks, but Dad’s expression was serious. Reluctantly, Kiri lowered all four of Mister Caleb’s paws onto the ground, her feathers wilted. “Say ‘thank you’,” she echoed.

Mister Caleb gazed into Kiri’s morose face for a long moment, then reared up so his paws rested on her stomach. Ecstatic, Kiri gathered him into another hug, squishing even harder than before. “This means we are friends!” she declared.

He allowed her to cuddle him for a moment more, then wiggled free. He bunted Luc as well, making him giggle as whiskers tickled his neck. Then Mister Caleb trotted toward the stairs, a little stiffly in his sweater and trailing ribbon. The bell jingled the whole way.

“Well, that was a thing that happened,” said Uncle Fjord.

“I think it’s nice,” Mister Caduceus said, smiling his easy smile. “It’s been a difficult few months, with Hupperdook coming under attack, and Obann, and tensions between the Empire and Dynasty climbing as high as they are. They all needed that, I think.”

Dad sighed, changing the subject to dinner, which would be served in the dining room, but would they prefer to eat in their rooms instead? While the adults conferred, Luc turned to Kiri, who looked very pleased with herself. “You knew it was Mister Caleb all along, didn’t you?”

The girl had a sparkle in her dark eyes as she winked at him. “Wrapped around his weenie,” she said.

As his mom took him by the hand and lead him toward the dining room, Luc asked, “Mom, if I ask really nice, do you think Mister Caleb will teach me how to turn into a cat?”

Mom gazed at him with an expression he couldn’t entirely decipher, something partially glad and partially worried. She pushed the curls from his forehead and gave him a kiss. It was a sharper-feeling kiss than he remembered, and didn’t match her plump lips, but Luc had gotten used to it. “You don’t have to call him ‘Mister’. He’s family.”

She was avoiding the question. “Mama!”

“Maybe,” Mom temporized. “When you’re older. If you’re magic enough, and if Caleb is willing to teach you.”

“He'll do it if you ask him to. Kiri says he’s wrapped around your weenie.”

“Luc!”

After that, there was a long, boring conversation about being respectful, and definitely not using words like ‘weenie’. Kiri watched the whole time from the other side of the table, eating her dinner unmolested. Which was just another example of how unfair life was, because she said it first and no one was yelling at her. Luc sulked for the rest of the meal, arms crossed over his chest, and didn’t even eat the fish with the brown sauce, which was his favorite. He was close to skipping even dessert so he could stomp to his room and trash around on his bed until someone came and checked on him, but before he could decide if it was worth it, a silvery tinkling sound reached his ear.

Ducking his head under the table, he looked down the long line of boots and trousers, and there, tied onto a pale wrist, was a green ribbon with a bell. The owner of the wrist shifted, and the bell rattled again. Luc gasped, popping his head above the table. Mister Caleb met his gaze. Then, not so much with his mouth but mostly with his eyes, the man smiled at him with great fondness. It made Luc feel warm and pleased, and he squirmed in his chair, his black mood forgotten.

 _“Danke,”_ Mister Caleb mouthed.

 _‘Teach me to be a magical cat,’_ Luc wanted to say back, but he’d already pushed his luck enough on that front, at least for now.

Maybe tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much to say about this one. Number one, don't tell me that we won't be seeing more of Kiri, because I reject that reality. In this story, I made the executive decision that the Nein went and got her from Hupperdook because of it being so strategic to the war and therefore dangerous, and what better place to take her than Nicodranas with the Brenattos? So shall it be.
> 
> Also, can I say how much fun it was working with Kiri's speech pattern? She should be in _so_ many more stories. Of course, I restricted myself unnecessarily, because, as Matt recently demonstrated, she would certainly have picked up innumerable new words. It was just fun to play with a list of stock phrases. :)
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this chapter! And thanks to all of you who have supported the story. It was wonderful to share and talk with you about the show we all love.


End file.
